Restoring Faith
by SewerSurfin
Summary: It's easy to lose faith in yourself or in the world around you. It's building it back up that's the difficult part, especially when you are a mutant.
1. Alone

**Disclaimer: TMNT do not belong to me *tear***

**A/N: This is going to have a few chapters, but they are going to be more like a collection of one-shots which take place in the 1987 'verse after the show ends. So, for those of you not familiar with the last few seasons of the show, a small recap. Shredder and Krang were banished to Dimension X, the Technodrome was destroyed, and Dregg was defeated. The basic premise is what after you have fulfilled a life goal, where do you go from there? When you have had to live your life as an outcast from society, what purpose do you have? We start with Leonardo. **

_What now?_

The thought had been plaguing Leonardo since the previous afternoon. Seemingly simple words which had woven their way into his psyche, unwanted and difficult to remove like a relentless mold; dangerous and toxic. While Leonardo was no stranger to self-doubt, in the past he had usually been able to shake the thoughts with some rational thinking. This time however, the ambiguous question had held itself over his head, leading him further down a path of uncertainty like a carrot dangling above an unsuspecting horse's nose.

For most of his teenage years, he'd had a purpose, a _drive. _Train hard. Be your best. Lead your brothers. Keep the world safe. And there was no denying that that was just what Leonardo and his brothers had done. Yesterday, they had saved the world from one of their most menacing foes yet, the terrifying Lord Dregg. Not long before that, they had banished Shredder and Krang to Dimension X.

_What now?_

They had won. Upon their triumphant return to the lair, Splinter had proudly informed the four brothers that they were his students no longer, but his equals. Leonardo could now call himself a true _ninja master. _How long had Leonardo longed to hear those words? How many times had he envisioned such a scenario in his head? And yet, he had not pictured the aftermath as _this. _

It was 5am sharp, and the blue banded ninja was alone in the dojo after waking up at 4:45 am with the buzzing of his alarm clock. Listening to the snores emanating from his brothers' rooms, he had made his way into the dojo by himself. Splinter had apparently not awoken the other three for daily training as had always been their routine.

Leonardo kneeled on a mat...waiting. The clock ticked endlessly from the wall behind him, continuing to count its way forward into the new, unknown future.

He placed his katanas on the ground before himself and stared at them vacantly. The well polished metal glimmered dully in the muted light of the training room. The sight of them blurred as his eyes lost focus while his thoughts wandered.

_What now?_

For once, the leader didn't know. Leonardo had no plan.

_Train hard. Be your best. Lead your brothers. Keep the world safe._

He could feel the memories in this room as if they were etched into the very bricks that lined the walls and lingered in the air which filled his lungs. Air which he now exhaled heavily, morphing it into a weary sigh that was weighted down with the very disquiet he felt.

He reached forward with shaking hands and picked up the twin katana, their familiar weight offering him little comfort. He raised himself to his feet and began the warm up routine that had been ingrained in him since a young child.

_What now?_

Leonardo did not allow the gnawing thought to show in his fluid, perfectly timed katas. His katana sang through the air with every graceful arc and sweep of his arms; but what had once been part of a chorus along side the weapons of his brothers was now a forlorn solo.

They had not shown up for practice this morning.

He was alone.

_What now?_

**A/N: Sooo? Thoughts? Cowabunga ;)**


	2. Growing Bitterness

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except my name, and it definitely isn't Leo, Don, Mike, or Raph. *Sigh***

**A/N: Here is the next installment. Takes place right after the first chapter. I sincerely want to thank everyone who has read, reviewed, favorited, or followed this...it means a lot! :D**

Michelangelo awoke slowly in a luxurious crescendo that climaxed with his opening his eyes to a digital clock that read 8:14 AM. A wide grin spread across his face as the realization dawned on him that he had been allowed to sleep in. Leonardo had always been a perfectionist and a stickler for routine, and thus usually him or Splinter awoke the group for morning practice. The youngest brother had definitely not anticipated ever sleeping past 8.

_This is better than jelly bean and cocoa puffs pizza for breakfast! _Michelangelo thought as he came to a seat at the side of his bed.

He reached over to his nightstand, grabbed his mask, and tied it around his eyes, the orange taking its customary place just at the edges of his vision.

He stood up and began his habitual morning ritual of donning his accompanying orange wrist, elbow, and knee bands. He finished this with his belt, regarding himself in his full-length mirror to assure that his "M" buckle was straight. His eyes lingered on the initial...the "M" that was Michelangelo.

A few days ago Donatello had voiced that the initials on their buckles was rather "childish" for a grown genius of his caliber, and Raphael had in turn quipped that it was the only way to tell them apart until Michelangelo opened his mouth…

Michelangelo frowned at the thought. Like Raphael never realized that his jabs hurt? Michelangelo knew it was just Raphael's way...but sometimes...his words hurt.

"Raphael can be so bogus sometimes. Whatever. At least you are the handsome one, Michelangelo," he spoke to his reflection. Satisfied that he had fully convinced himself of this, he nodded a good-bye to his copy in the mirror and decided to listen to the grumbling of his stomach with a trip to the kitchen.

It was of no surprise to him that his brothers were already at the table. Donatello was sipping at a steaming cup of coffee while perusing the pages of the latest issue of _Genius Quarterly_. Raphael was picking at a plate of clearly burnt scrambled eggs that appeared more like pebbles than food with a scowl of distaste on his face. Leonardo was sitting in a chair slightly removed from the table. His posture was noticeably stiff as he read a well worn copy of _War and Peace. _The leader appeared to be attempting to be absorbed in his reading material, but Michelangelo had always been adept at reading his brothers. Leonardo was clearly upset and distracted about something.

"Leonardo?" Michelangelo questioned gently. "You ok, leader dude?"

"Fearless has been like that ever since Donno and I came in here this morning," Raphael interjected before Leonardo had a chance to respond. Leonardo visibly tensed. "He's probably pissed that you slept so late and didn't cook us breakfast. I know I am! Look at these eggs! This is not the breakfast of champions here."

"I offered to let you use my new automatic egg scrambler," Donatello chimed in without looking up from his magazine. "It's not Michelangelo's fault you have the culinary skills of a toddler."

"Using one of your inventions is like signing my own death certificate," Raphael glowered at the genius.

Donatello shrugged nonchalantly and took a deep gulp of his coffee. "So says the one who relies so heavily on the TV I always repair, and the toaster I always fix, and the computer I always debug, and the toilet I always unplug…"

Michelangelo's snout wrinkled in disgust at the last thought. "That's mondo grossola to the max, Donatello."

Donatello smirked as Raphael squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, stabbing at his eggs in an exaggerated manner in an attempt to hide his embarrassment.

Ignoring the silent exchange between his next older brothers, Michelangelo continued, "But it's nothing a little pizza cannot fix." He snatched the plate from in front of Raphael and tossed the sorry contents into the trash. "Worry not, Raphael, for Master Chef Michelangelo is your savior!" The orange masked turtle gave a grandiose bow before taking his apron and chef hat from their hangers beside the oven.

Raphael rolled his eyes and folded his arms on the table, resting his chin on them. "More like master doofus," he grumbled.

"No," Leonardo's voice cut in. His tone was soft, but stern and muffled slightly behind the pages of his book that was held in front of the lower portion of his face.

The three younger turtles turned their attention to the eldest, but he did not elaborate upon his single phrase. Seconds dragged on like a stick through amber...laborious and thick.

"No...what?" Raphael prodded for clarification, raising a confused eye ridge in an attempt to break the uncomfortable quiet.

Closing his book and situating it on his lap, Leonardo's eyes grew intense with a faint touch of disappointment glimmering in their depths like a finely cut piece of onyx.

"Doesn't what we accomplished yesterday mean anything to you?" the leader implored. His voice held a longing hope that his brothers would understand what he meant.

The others exchanged questioning glances. They turned back to Leonardo and shrugged in unison.

"Well," Donatello offered blandly, "we saved the world yet again. Nothing new there."

Leonardo's shoulders slumped in defeat and he shook his head forlornly. "I expected more from you guys."

Raphael's brow scrunched up in irritation. "Wow, that's harsh. We bust our shells yesterday and you expect _more_? Want a song and dance number to top things off?"

Leonardo's jaw clenched, the shadows visibly moving on his face as the tight muscles worked under his skin. He stood up, his book falling to the ground with a thump. "You guys never came to the dojo this morning to train." His words were sharp and cut through the air like one of his katana.

Raphael chuckled mockingly at his elder brother. "_That's _what's got you so worked up? Don't get your katanas in a twist over something so stupid! You or Splinter usually wake us up for practice anyways," he scoffed. "I figured you were just cutting us a break this morning."

Donatello nodded. "Same here."

"Ditto, dude," Michelangelo chimed in.

Leonardo let out an exasperated huff of air. "I shouldn't _have to_ get you guys up! _That's_ the point. Splinter declared us Ninja Masters last night. We have to respect the title he has bestowed upon us! _You _need to act worthy of the title."

"Dude…" Michelangelo responded, obviously slightly vexed with Leonardo's sudden attitude. "We deserve a day off."

"Does _Splinter_ take a day off? Does _evil _take a day off?" Leonardo countered angrily. "_We _cannot take a day off."

"Not all of us eat, breathe, and sleep ninjutsu," Donatello muttered spitefully.

"I'm not asking you to do that."

"Sure sounds like it to me," Raphael glared resentfully at Leonardo.

"I'm not -" Leonardo rose his voice but stopped abruptly mid sentence. His tone grew hurt and bitter as he resumed, "Alright, you know what, fine...have it your way." He bent over, picked up his book, and left the kitchen.

Ending up again in the dojo, he lit a candle and a stick of incense with trembling hands. He tried desperately to calm himself, but he was too shaken. He could easily count on two hands the number of times any of his brothers had spoken or acted towards him in such a manner. As leader, he was unaccustomed to it.

Taking the lotus position, he took in a deep breath, the spicy incense filling his lungs. He shut his eyes and attempted to clear his mind, but his cacophony of thoughts were thicker than sewer sludge. And in the forefront of his mind, the same nagging thought he had had earlier that morning came clearer in his mindscape.

_What now…?_

**A/N: So here we are beginning to see a little more discord between the brothers...and poor Leonardo feeling even more clueless than he did in the previous chapter. I must say that I have a lot of fun writing the 1987 turtles.**


	3. Crossroads

**Disclaimer: I am only writing this for fun, not profit. I don't own TMNT.**

**A/N: I think this is morphing into more of a story than a collection of one-shots. More Leonardo ahead. **

Leonardo was not used to feeling restless. The sensation did not sit well with him, as if he had eaten rotten pizza and it now balled into an uncomfortable, sickening lump in his stomach. Much like his brother Donatello, Leonardo's mind was always working, plotting; but unlike where Donatello's mind was alive with mechanics and equations, Leonardo's was alight with plans and techniques; a strategy and maneuver for any possible outcome. The blue masked turtle had not anticipated his brothers' reacting in this way...with such callous disrespect, that it had thrown him for a loop.

Maybe he was too hasty? Maybe he had not given them enough time to explain? Maybe he needed to deliberate on this more?

Meditation was usually enough to take the edge off any frustration he felt, but his consternation towards his brothers' apathetic attitudes and the malcontent swirling through his mind prevented him from achieving the spiritual balance he seeked. The breaths he released were supposed to be calming; cleansing; but instead they shuddered, hesitant and heavy. His knees bobbed and his hands shook.

"Good morning, Master Leonardo."

The mutant turtle cracked open his eyes to the sight of Splinter standing before him.

"Master Splinter!" Leonardo exclaimed, attempting to hide his embarrassment at being caught so unfocused.

Splinter stood with both hands resting upon his walking stick which was situated directly in front of himself. He had his head cocked to the side ever so slightly, his knowing black eyes seeming to bore into the katana wielding ninja's very soul. Splinter had a mysterious sixth sense that Leonardo himself had barely begun to tap into. It made the young mutant extremely uncomfortable under the perceptive sensei's gaze, making him hyper aware of the fact that even though he had been given the title of "master" in a physical sense, there was still the spiritual aspect which he needed to develop and hone.

"Something troubles you, my son," Splinter observed. It was not a question.

"I'm -" Leonardo began, having every intention of denying anything was amiss, but there was something about the openness in the rat's eyes that made Leonardo relent and lay out the full truth. "I'm troubled, sensei." Leonardo turned his uneasy gaze downward, ashamed.

"You are not required to address me as 'sensei' anymore, Leonardo," Splinter stated matter-of-factly. "Could this be a part of your inner disquiet? I sense much turmoil in your spirit."

He took a seat on the tatami mat next to his former student, placing his cane to his side and his clawed hands on his knees. He regarded Leonardo patiently, his expression impassive. Ever waiting.

"No - yes - I'm not sure anymore -" Leonardo's voice waivered. He picked up his hands and stared at them, as if verifying that he was still real; as if that focal point could keep him grounded; sane; rational.

"Oftentimes when one finds themselves at a crossroads, they feel conflicted about which path to take, Splinter offered.

"It's - it's not just that, Master...It's that -" Leonardo paused, attempting to gather his thoughts, but it was like a child reaching for bubbles in a breeze: elusive, delicate, and easily broken. "It's that I've wanted this for as long as I can remember. We've defeated our enemies, become masters of our art...but I don't _feel _like I thought I would...and my brothers seem to be taking this for granted… as if this is the end…"

"Nothing ends."

"I know that, sen- _Master Splinter, _but -"

"Leonardo," Splinter said, his expression growing empathetic but serious, "you have always been a noble spirit - even as a young boy - forever wanting to tip the scales of justice and taking the world's problems upon your shoulders. But also in those qualities, you need to realize that not everyone sees things in the exact same way that you do.

"You and your brothers are as different as the four seasons," Splinter continued, a wistful smile ghosting upon his mouth, "which was something I had to learn relatively quickly to contend with as you four grew up. I never had children of my own, nor did I have siblings to draw experience from. A lot of it was trial and error, learning each of your individual personalities and quirks.

"And then I realized that was _was _something I could offer the four of you...something I know as naturally as I breathe. Something which could keep you safe in a world which would probably never understand you."

"Ninjutsu," Leonardo breathed.

Splinter nodded. "Yes. I originally made you my students to help you protect yourselves and for us to unite as a clan. I honestly never expected it to become what it did, but when you four met April and we learned that Oroku Saki had brought the Foot Clan to New York in order to exterminate me...I guess that sealed it for the four of you. That was never my original intention. When I fled Japan, I never expected to see Oroku Saki again." Splinter shrugged. "Then again, maybe it was meant to be...that the four of you be heroes. The Universe can be a strange thing."

"But what now? Now that Dregg is gone, along with Shredder and Krang...And my brothers...I've always led them, but if we're equals now, is it even necessary that I lead? What do I do? I don't -"

Splinter rose to his feet as the last of the incense had dwindled down the the stick. A remaining line of ash fell onto its tray.

The elder mutant placed a reassuring hand on Leonardo's shoulder. The turtle gazed back up at his former sensei, his eyes pleading, imploring for direction.

"Leonardo," Splinter addressed the leader, "it is no longer my place to tell you what to do. I will always be here for guidance or to give you advice, but the rest is up to you. I can lead you to the oasis, my son, but I cannot teach you how to see your own reflection."

Leonardo averted his eyes, clearly not happy with Splinter's words. His mouth formed a tight line of vexation.

"What have I always told you about good, Leonardo?"

"Always do good, and it will come back to you in abundance," Leonardo quoted one of Splinter's lessons from a few months ago.

"Yes, my son, be true to yourself and what you believe in, and the rest will follow. Trust in that."

Splinter patted Leonardo's shoulder twice before leaving the dojo. Leonardo once again found himself alone with his own thoughts and the realization that more and more lately he did not like their company.

**A/N: Not too sure about the ending here, but I was having trouble thinking of something good. Leo's quote from Splinter about goodness is from the original TMNT episode from the 8th season called "Turtle Trek". I always loved Splinter's sage advice in the original show. Sometimes it wasn't exactly clear and the boys didn't learn it's true meaning until the time was right. That was my intention with this chapter. Thoughts? My thought is thanks so much for reading!**


	4. Coming Undone

**Disclaimer: I do not own the amazing TMNT.**

**A/N: I'm back for more with the awesome 1987 dudes XD. Thanks all who have read and reviewed...favorited/followed! I appreciate it all! :)**

Michelangelo watched the opening to the den for many moments after Leonardo left, a vague guilt beginning to line his features. He twiddled the edge of his apron with his fingers uneasily.

"Do you dudes think...we hurt Leonardo's feelings?" he questioned his brothers distantly, his eyes never leaving the path his eldest brother had taken.

Raphael shrugged. "Am I supposed to care? He's being a hardass."

Raphael's reply was slightly more cutting than Michelangelo had expected and he involuntarily winced.

"Ouch, dude," the orange masked turtle frowned in defence of his eldest sibling.

Raphael glowered, running a finger around the rim of his orange juice glass absently.

"I call'm like I see'm," his scowl deepened. "Honestly, _'Master Michelangelo'" _\- Raphael spoke the title along with mocking air quotes - "did you _want _to train today?"

"No, but -"

"My point exactly," Raphael cut him off. "Could he _stand_ to cut us some slack from time to time? Would it _kill _him to say, 'Hey guys, great job yesterday!' instead of 'You guys are lazy good-for-nothings and I'm perfect.'"

"Raphael, that's totally _not _what Leonardo said, dude."

Raphael averted his gaze. "Coulda fooled me," he grumbled. He shifted his eyes back to his younger brother and they held a hardness Michelangelo rarely saw in his normally sarcastic sibling. "You _said _we deserve the day off Michelangelo, and how you're defending Fearless? You change your mind faster than your pizza toppings. Doesn't surprise me with all that space in there -"

Michelangelo stiffened, his fists balling. "Dude."

"_Dude what?"_

A silence grew as the two stared each other down. Michelangelo's eyes narrowed. He debated what to say, at a point where he was sick of Raphael's taunts, but not wanting to instigate an argument. They were a team. Teams stick together. They support each other. More importantly than that, they were brothers. Bros. Compadres.

The only sound was the intermittent flipping of Donatello's magazine pages as he conveniently ignored the display in front of him.

"Raphael," Michelangelo let out the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. He kept his words calm. Collected. He attempted to hide away every emotion like the cheese in a stuffed crust pizza. "You must be one miserable dude."

Raphael's eyes sparked at the unexpected words from his younger brother. Something played in their depths that Michelangelo couldn't describe.

"_Excuse me?!" _Raphael snapped.

"Everything and everyone is always is a major bummer for you! It's like a perma-thunderstorm in your brain, dude. You may think my brain is an empty space...but I would rather that any day than to have it filled with the mondo loads of crapola yours is."

Raphael jerked to his feet, his expression a mix of hurt and indignation.

"That's not -" he sputtered. "You don't - I don't have to take this from you!"

Raphael stomped out of the kitchen, pushing his chair over as he left. It fell to the floor with clatter that echoed through the room. Michelangelo cringed at the sound, but Donatello continued to peruse his magazine, seemingly unphased.

"Rapidly dwindling company, eh?" Donatello spoke up.

Michelangelo gaped wordlessly in surprise for a minute at Raphael's temperamental departure before responding, "What's the haps today? It's like the bizarro twilight zone or something!"

"Teenage angst?" Donatello answered nonchalantly.

"Got a brainy response, dude?"

"You obviously struck a nerve with Raphael and Leonardo feels lost and like he's losing control. That's my simplified assessment. I could regale the full extent of a psychological profile for the two of them if you wish," Donatello grinned mischieviously.

Michelangelo raised both of his hands in surrender and shook his head. "No, that's ok, bro."

"Suit yourself," the genius said casually.

Michelangelo sighed and ran a hand over his head before plopping down in the chair Leonardo had abandoned. "I'm treated Raphael no better than we treated Leonardo. Something is bothering him and I hurt his feelings. I didn't mean to...he's just so...negative all the time."

"Cynicism-a-la Raphael is his specialty."

Ignoring the genius Michelangelo continued, "I just wish there was something I could do to help…"

Donatello folded back the page of his magazine so as to not lose his place and lowered it to the table top. "Michelangelo...this is probably something they just need to work through on their own. Probably best we don't interfere."

"Dude, that is such a _you _answer. I don't think that's the way." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully before snapping in victory. "I just had a mondo notion!" Turning to Donatello he asked the genius, "You free tonight?"

"That depends," Donatello said suspiciously.

"Well, what if we all practice with Leonardo tonight and then all hang out together, grab some pizza and Vinny's and boogie on down to the movies? 'Samurai Slugs vs. the Bodacious Bushido Babes II' just came out and I know our Fearless Leader thought the first one was totally righteous…" he grew animated in his excitement and his eyes sparkled.

Donatello gave his brother a look of mild disgust.

"I don't know, Michelangelo. I didn't really feel like dealing with crowds of humans tonight. I really just wanted to stay in and work on my latest invention…"

"Aww come on, bro!" Michelangelo cajoled. "You owe me!"

Donatello raised a dubious eyebrow ridge. "For _what _exactly?"

"Well how about that time -" Michelangelo hesitated, lost in thought. "Ummm for all those delicious pizzas I bake for you?" The question was drawn out, as if he were unsure of the answer.

Donatello chuckled in amusement. "How would I know? You usually eat them before I get a slice!"

"Dude..._come on_...please?"

"Ok...ok…" Donatello smirked. "Just giving you a hard time." He paused for dramatic effect. "Fine...I'll go…"

Michelangelo's face lit up and he grabbed his brother into a crushing embrace. All the air in the genius' lungs wheezed out like a roughly deflated balloon.

"Thanks, dude! You're the best!"

"I know...I know…" Donatello croaked through Michelangelo's vice-like hold. "Now watch the shell, I just had it waxed!"

**A/N: Mikey thinks he has the magic answer! Will it bring them together, or drive them farther apart?**


	5. Doubt

**Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT**

**A/N: Back for more :) This chapter focuses a little more of Raphael...so any **_**italics **_**(unless openly in conversation)****are his thoughts, just for clarification.**

Raphael had stormed into the den and flopped onto the couch. Sinking down as far as he could go as if in a subconscious effort to disappear, he crossed his legs on the table and began to flip through the TV stations absently.

As his thoughts grew darker, he slid farther down into the couch, his mask coming loose in the knot as his head rubbed up against the back cushion. The front of the mask in turn shifted down and obscured the sai wielder's vision. Huffing in frustration, he grabbed the mask and forcefully threw the offending piece of fabric across the room. It fluttered to the ground unassumingly next to the TV. He frowned, wishing momentarily that the mask was more substantial and had smashed something in the process.

"Who does the Cowabunga Kid think he is?" Raphael grumbled to himself. "Who died and made him the resident expert in mutant turtle psychology? He can barely handle his own vacant mind...so what gives _him _the right to tell me I'm miserable?"

He settled on a random monster movie and crossed his arms defensively across his plastron.

"Who says I'm miserable? I'm the farthest _thing _from miserable! What's there to be miserable about? Just because I'm a mutant-freak-outcast-from-society who's forced to live in the sewers and wear a disguise every time I go into public…" he uncrossed his arms and kept a visual count on his fingers with each factor as a vexed scowl contorted his features.

"And I've helped save the world more times than I can count and am still shunned…" he felt his mood slipping even faster with each thought.

"And my older brother still doesn't seem to think that _all that_ is good enough..." his voice trailed off and his scowl dispersed, only to be replaced by a pained expression "I definitely have no reason to be…"

"...miserable…" he finished in a choked whisper.

He blinked away the angry tears he felt burning at the edges of his eyes.

"Stupid Michelangelo," he muttered resentfully.

He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't notice the newcomer entering through the archway from the bedrooms.

"Good morning, Raphael."

"_Oh yah? _What's so good about it?" Raphael snapped before even verifying who it was that had greeted him.

"Any day can be a good day when approached with the right attitude, my son."

Master Splinter appeared around the side of the couch, his expression calm despite the almost palpable emotional cloud churning around his red-banded son.

"I must have missed that memo," Raphael snarked. "All I have today is my left attitude. Too bad."

It was just then that it clicked in Raphael's whirring mind that it was _Master Splinter _he had subjected his attitude to. Suddenly feeling ashamed, Raphael scrambled to an upright sitting position, and locked himself in place stiffly. His cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

"M-master Splinter," Raphael stammered. "I - I'm sorry, I didn't mean -"

Splinter held his hands up in a peaceful gesture as he sat down gently on the opposite side of the couch.

"Do not fret, Raphael. I take no offense. I sense much emotional turbulence today. It is an understandable reaction."

Raphael exhaled deeply through his nostrils. He wondered what he should say, if anything at all. He had never been good at conversing about his emotions. Cracking jokes came much more naturally to him. A witty remark was always rapidly fired from his lips, but his innermost feelings he kept bottled away tighter than Michelangelo's prized pizza sauce recipe.

"Nah," he shrugged, "no turbulence here. This flight is perfectly steady. Clear skies, sun shining…" he plastered an unconvincing grin on his face.

Splinter crossed his arms and shot the turtle a dubious look. Raphael suddenly felt sheepish under the master's knowing gaze and found himself again wishing he could disappear, preferably this time to a deserted tropical island.

_Why couldn't I be a mutant chameleon?_

"Are you certain of that, Raphael?"

Raphael averted his gaze and stared fixedly at his feet.

"Yah," he replied distantly, his voice breathy.

"I will not pressure you, my son, but always remember that the longer the lava boils, the worse the volcano's eruption...and that is not only disastrous for the volcano itself, but for all in its path."

There were times that Raphael was not able to make sense of Splinter's cryptic advice, but this was one instance in which he understood. However, as much as part of him wanted to say something, he just _couldn't. _When it came to _that _his throat constricted painfully as if in the hold of a snake. Besides, he knew Splinter wouldn't understand. _No one _understood. At least that was how he perceived it. He..._they..._did so much, and the only reward they were met with was further mistrust and fear from the humans above them. Was it so much to ask for a simple thank you instead having to retreat into the sewers to escape a screaming mob? What he wouldn't give for a normal life…

Raphael knew that in a way, his brothers wanted to be accepted too, but it never seemed to bother them as much as it did him. Unless they were like him and never spoke of it...but somehow Raphael doubted it. They all had their own callings in life, their own talents and special contributions to the family unit...the team...and what did Raphael have?

_I'm really good at changing the television channel and molding the couch with my butt imprint..._

He snorted disdainfully at himself. Splinter caught the barely perceptible self-depreciating sound and regarded Raphael with a look of sorrow mixed with pity. Raphael caught this and it made him involuntarily cringe in further humiliation. The plastic smile reasserted itself as if he hadn't noticed Splinter's expression.

"Just feeling a little under the weather here, that's all," Raphael began flatly but his voice turned joking as he continued, "Quite literally actually...since I live in the sewers, underground…" he chuckled, but it was not genuine. "Get it? Eh?"

Splinter shook his head slowly, the melancholy expression still plainly evident.

"Your mind is sharp, my son, but only when the steel of your thoughts is tempered by words of compassion will you realize your full potential," the rat master stated ambiguously.

The former human's expression turned piercing, serious, as if he was trying to convey something. But to Raphael, it was as if the rat had spoken in a foreign language. He quirked an eyebrow ridge at the ninja master.

_Perhaps he's going senile in his old age…_

"Sharp mind? I know I have my mask off and that we all look the same, but I think you have me mixed up with the brainiac purple guy in the kitchen," Raphael pointed in an exaggerated manner at his "R" belt buckle. "See? I'm Raphael."

Splinter turned away silently, settling on the monster movie which was still mindlessly showing on the TV screen. Many moments passed by without any further conversation between turtle and his former teacher. The television was on low, but Raphael could hear the characters faintly. The voices of Michelangelo and Donatello carried in from the kitchen, but he couldn't clearly make out what they were saying.

Raphael mulled Splinter's words over and over again in his mind as if they were being carried through a torrential tide.

"Intelligence comes in many forms, Raphael," Splinter finally spoke up. "The man who remains trapped in the room of doubt and fixates on the closed door will never know what wonders and different possibilities lay beyond."

Raphael's frustration was mounting with Splinter's cryptic advice. He harrumphed and replied in a deeply sarcastic voice, "Mutant turtle here..._not _a man."

"You are missing my point, my son."

"With all due respect, Master -"

The rest of his sentence was cut off by the chirping of his TurtleComm.

_Saved by the beep._

"Thank you for calling the Mock Turtle Discount Joke Service where you get more yuks for your bucks, Raphael speaking," the red masked turtle greeted cheekily.

April appeared on the screen. While she was normally amused by Raphael's creative greetings, this time her blue eyes held heaviness the jokester was unaccustomed to.

"Hey April! Long time no talk!" Raphael visibly brightened at the sight of his long time human friend, but a part of him remained guarded. "How goes the free lance reporting biz?"

April had distanced herself from the turtles about a year ago after she left Channel 6 in order to pursue more "normal" news stories. The Turtles had been hurt at first (Michelangelo had taken it the hardest), but had learned to accept it. Raphael just viewed the whole situation with his typical cynicism. She was a human, and they were mutants. They lived in different worlds, and he figured it was only a matter of time before she stopped calling completely.

"Raphael, I wish I had time to talk, but you need to turn on Channel 6 news right now," she said, the worry and urgency clear in her voice.

"Did I win the lotto? I was sure I played my lucky numbers…"

April shook her head, her short red hair swaying from the momentum.

"No time for jokes, Raphael, trust me. I gotta go, I'll call you later."

The call dropped off, and with it Raphael's heart fell like a lead weight.

He sat on the couch with a glazed expression on his face for a moment before picking up the remote and changing the station to Channel 6. He groaned in disgust as Vernon Fenwick's face filled the screen.

"_Good morning, my adoring viewers! This is your favorite reporter from Channel 6 News, Vernon Fenwick, reporting live from the Statue of Liberty where rescue crews are converging after an explosion rocked the timeless symbol of American unity. What heartless fiend would carry out such an atrocious act?"_

Raphael visibly tensed, every muscle in his body on edge. He leaned forward, his attention fully on the TV. Grabbing one of his sais, he twirled it slowly, thoughtfully.

Vernon began fiddling with his earpiece, as if listening to someone.

"_This just inned that a message has been found on the back of the statue, apparently from whomever is responsible for this unAmerican action."_

The camera focusing on Vernon began to shake around in a nauseating blur as the human and camera operator rushed to the rear of the statue.

As the camera came back into focus on the writing on the statue, Raphael's eyes widened and his jaw grew slack.

"You have _got_ to be shitting me!" Raphael cursed in a low growl.

"_I should have known," _Vernon continued, _"Mutants. Filthy, stinky mutants."_

His own internal conflict forgotten for the moment, Raphael exchanged apprehensive glances with Master Splinter before the turtle called out, "Guys! I think you need to get in here right now!"

Raphael read and re-read the message repeatedly as he waited for his brothers to come in. Crudely spray painted in a bright red hue on the back of the statue was: _"Liberty to Mutants."_

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

**A/N: This took forever to write. I re-wrote sections a few times, finally to get to this. The real plot is beginning to unfold...**


End file.
